Battle for Blood
by His-Lady-Outlaw
Summary: Based on Amy Williams (A.K.A - Bansheehowler) original story "Circus of Gladiators" this is my take on the events the day before Charity's escape from the arena. involves my own twist on the plot, and my own ruthless warrior. A slave that became a Gladiator. A Gladiator that became a Hero. A Hero that defied the empire. one shot


**This is my take on what Charity when through the day before she escaped from the gladiator ring and a few tweaks to the back story.  
The original story is from "Circus of Gladiators" by Amy Williams. (a.k.a Dazil0Darlin)**

**Yes Amy I did post it =D  
(evil laughter followed by crack of lightning)**

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_Just a quick prologue _

Welcome to new Rome, an empire that rose from the ashes in 2056 consuming the world with a mix of old and new idea, but there are as few, as the recantation of the gladiator. Most murders who's lust for blood have led them to now kill each other, but for a few they are stolen and sold into the ring and others taken, to repay the indebted to pay for the crime they're made raised and trained into the slaughter known simply as the blood indebted.

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The screams of spectators itched at Charity's ears, the stupidity of fans was a pain and highly distracting. Not to mention that most of them had come in hope of watching her drown in her own blood, she hated them, their very faces made her blood writhe and boil, much unlike her opponent she had only just come to see him, to study his build, shape, movement before the Colosseum bell rang and he would come baying for her blood, although one thing about this man was already certain, he was undoubted a complete ass.  
The very way he had strutted into the arena, raising his arms, yelling out fans, smiling and blowing kisses to squealing girls and woman. But his antics were not completely pointless he showed no form of limp, no major arm or muscle damage, the open helmet he wore revealed a handsome chestnut face, or at least I would have been if not for the long ragged scars running diagonal across his face. He would be a challenge. But the way he cheered their captors on, it was disgusting; how many men and woman had he murdered in the name of new Rome's entertainment. The announcer raised his hands for the crowd to quieten

"here before us today, we have a challenger from all the way from Athens. A champion, a survivor, the only competitor to win the Blood Forest without taking a single hit, I give you" he howled "the mighty Glieith"  
Charity's opponent roared beating at his chest plates, controlling her adrenalin, she wet her lips fingering the sword hilt. She'd heard of the blood forests challenge before, gladiators abandoned in the wilderness alone with only one survival item; the objective; survive, kill the others. The supplies were spread thin among them one, with a blanket, one with a sword and only one could leave alive, no exceptions. Charity eyed him darkly this man was trained like her, probably taken at a young age, dragged screaming from his emotionless family, to be sold or a blood dept.

"and our own challenger" the announcer began turning to face her corner, the gates began to creak open "the Valkyrie herself, the undefeated women, our very own angel of death" he paused for one dramatic moment before continuing "Charity!" his voice was lost in the roar of the crowd as she stepped out from below the stone arch. Making her way calmly and quietly out into the ring, swing her blade left to right.  
Many screamed, many booed, and Charity couldn't care less really. Her golden eyes were on the man before her, clad in armour an axe in one hand, sword in the other, and the announcer had signalled for the gong.  
Charity closed her eyes and waited unmoving for it, but inside her blood thrashed, and fought a whirlwind waiting for her to let it go, seconds passed, minutes, what felt like hours. The screams, cheers faded into oblivion, just her, her and nothing, not cold, not hot, not a caged monster, not a slave, not a gladiator. Just there standing alone in a valley of black, of a blissful moment she felt nothing no hatred nor pain or heartbreak. She was weightless. Her breath evened. Blood cooled from its rippling pace to one much steadier.

All at once the air rippled and the hollow 'BOOM' sounded, Charity's finely tuned instinct kicked into gear. And her eyes snapped open; she shot forwarded to clash with Glieith.

The male gladiator was the first to attack; with a battle cry he swung his sword at Charity's head. She bought up her own clashing against the blow, echoing the unforgotten sound of steel dragging over steel. His swing was powerful, it far outmatched Charity's own but it wasn't strength that won her title of undefeated woman. They clashed again Charity angling her sword carefully so his sword would simply slide away from her, it wasn't a popular technique, the crowd demanded entertainment and they demanded blood. Pressing forward she swung for his chest. His reflexes were near as good as her, as he paired with his axe, they traded blows. Charity sucked for air, he was kept her pace, instinct and training told her to change it again, trying to catch him off guard, one fault, and one trip could win or lose her the match. Charity bounced away for another swing aimed at her temple. Glieith followed her as she retreated.  
They clashed again. Overhead, backhand, side cut. Like a lethal dance they continued.  
Suddenly Glieith changed pace, pivoting he ducked under her swing and followed through with a heave axe swing. Charity leaped back barely rising her bade in time To pair the bloodthirsty stroke. For a moment they stood locked together. Battling between strength and steel. A trickle of blood slowly ran down Charity's bicep leaking from where the curved tip of the axe had caught her. Glieith suddenly rammed her defence with another axe swing. Hocking her blade between the curves of his axe, a split second was enough to confirm Charity's mistake. A cunning grin broke Glieth's scared face. And Charity's eyebrows shot skyward.  
_**Oh shit!  
**_His biceps rippled as Glieth's called on his strength. Charity yelped as he ripped the axe away for her, but Charity's sword blade still hooked into the blade curve of his axe. That when the female gladiator made another mistake. Trying to keep hold of her weapon, Charity felt the wrench of the hilt through her fingers, and an all the familiar pain stabbed in the joints of her elbow and shoulder blade as her muscles fought dislocation. Charity felt herself be ripped from her feet and thrown through the air. With a strangled cry for a moment she was air born. Somewhere along the way she must have lost her sword because when she crashed back down to the earth it was no longer in her hand. In a mess of tumble and rolls she slid to a stop face first in the sand, vision spinning and the crowd roaring in her ringing ears. Her eyes strained to see thought the cloud of sand and dust. Senses and thoughts fought in a raging battle to reorganise themselves. But three were certain  
one; she was defenceless, her sword gods knows where.  
Two; she had at least 2 broken ribs and a possible concussion,  
and three; Glieith would be upon her within a heartbeat.

It just happened, he was. Glieith was preparing for the kill when Charity suddenly lashed out, coincidently driving her heal into his shin he gaged in pain. Instinct and training quickly takes over, she snatched a handful of sand and threw in into his glowering eyes. Glieith roared with anger and pain.  
Thankfully, Charity instinctively rolled away. Barely missing his blind stroke of his axe that embedded itself deep in sand where her head had rested only a moment ago.

Charity leaped to her feet; darting away she put distance between herself and her opponent. Finally with a moment to breath she scanned the arena for her lost sword. Its polished surface dance out to her, to a weapon less gladiator it was a beckon of hope, glancing at Glieith who was trying to make sense through his sand clouded vision, she took off towards her sword. Taking the long route around Glieith,  
_**6 meters:**_ nearly there, nearly there  
_**4 meters:**_ she reached out ready to snatch her sword from its resting place  
_**2 **__**meters:**_ was when Charity realised Glieith was no longer in the corner of her vision  
_**1 meter:**_ Charity heard the heavy footsteps behind her  
she was less than a meter when a sudden spear of pain ripped through her head, Charity screamed as Glieith wrenched at his handful of her hair, Dragging her back closer to him. Charity squeezed her eyes closed.  
_**So that's how it is, is it?**_  
Charity gasped for breath the pain in her head bordering on agony, her fingers stretching out scramming at the sword hilt, just a bit further. Charity gritted her teeth and pulled against his grip she felt a fist full of hair being ripped from her scalpel. But, her hand closed over the sword grip and she did what she needed to, sword spinning in her hand. The quiet **slink **was barelyheard beyond the pair, as she sliced through her dazzling locks severing her head from his grip. Glieith eyed the golden eyed girl a fistful of her shimmering hair enclosed in his fist. After all charity was a gladiator, things like hair were at the bottom of the important list. But still, seeing her hair, in the hands of the idiot, having ripped it from her head (not to mention the crater of uneven hair that would be at the back of her head) she felt a small prang of sadness in her chest.  
Going for a girls hair was a low blow. And as Glieith roar and charged at her again tossing her hair way.  
She felt a sudden need to settle the score.

_**Time to play dirty**_  
A solid kick with top of her armoured foot against the tenders between his legs did the trick well. The male portion of the cringed away on the impact, though, if memory served the female half may have cheered that little bit louder. Charity couldn't help the smile that raked her lips. Glieth's eyes exploded out of his face drenched in pain and anguish.  
_**Pay back asshole**_!  
She thought as she danced away out of his range in case he suddenly lashed out. Although he seemed pretty preoccupied, clucking his injured jewels and having a hard time resisting the urge to cry. Although she couldn't blame him, after all she was the one rocking the foot armour and had a pretty badass kick. **_(If she did say so herself)_** Surprisingly, for Charity a low blow like that. Wasn't what one would call 'uncommon'?  
To a guy it was a sacred 'no hit zone' to a girl…..not so much.

Enraged, in pain and having had his pride crushed _**(literally...haha pun!)**_ Glieith swung is axe at her, charity danced away barely missing It. And meet his follow through sword with her own, sparks and steel clashed. Again he raised his axe to bring it down ready to bring it down and lock her sword again.  
Not this time, like she would let him get the better of her twice!  
Spur of the moment led Charity to hammer his already injured foot with her armoured heal, Glieith grimiest and for a moment his swing faulted, but a moment was all she needed. A smirk touching her lips. Charity pushed of her lock against his sword and whipped hers at his axe hand.  
the blade made its target…sort of, she was a little off, as it were. The sword tip catching the back of the thumb, where it connects to the palm, slicing through flesh and maybe even bone. Glieith bellow in pain as a fountain of scarlet sprang from the wound. Before the male warrior could realise it, his axe had slipped from his grip, and straight into the open hand of Charity, who snatched it mid-fall. The axe was heavier than she originally anticipated, and of balance she stumbled under its weight.  
"Damnit" she hissed, _so much for using the axe, _its weight would only slow her down. Instead she spun on her heel and hurled it away.  
that's when she made one of the worst mistakes you can  
never let your opponent out of her vision, unless he dead or worse_** (yes there is worse things than dying, severed arms is one of them)  
**_a battle cry was all she heard before she was rammed with 240 pounds of brute muscle and force collided with her small frame.  
Charity yelped and the wall of meat crashed into her, thrown again from her feet she held tightly her sword.

This time Glieith wasn't take his time, without a hesitation he was there the moment she landed. Kicking her sword away he swung his weapon aiming it for the centre her fore head.  
_**Not good, not good. Not Good!  
**_At the last moment Charity kicked out, catching his wrist she knocked the blow away. Her hands were searching blindly through the sand, for something, anything that might help! Glieith changed tactics. And Charity chocked as his foot caught her ribcage, blood was flooding her mouth. Droplets of it were trickling from her cracked lips. The female gladiator tried to shield herself as the second kick came in. Powerful and merciless, her weak defence was knocked aside and she could have sworn she heard the crack of a rib. Gasping for air charity let her hands reach out in one last desperate attempt of hope, her heart beat was hammering in her ears. She watched Glieith raised sword for the finale blow, when her hands closed around a cold metal hilt.  
All at once time began to slowed down, the roar of the crowd, the wind, the earth. She had experienced it before; it was like stepping out of your body and watching the last moments before your death. Charity frowned and gritted her teeth, clenching the weapon in her hand.  
_**Not today**_  
Glieth's sword rained down on her, a forceful blow intended to sever her head for its body. Charity's own blow came in from the side, with what energy she had to spare, charity rip the weapon from its resting place and crashed it against Glieth's using the weight of her body and she rolled with the hit. Glieith killing strike was knocked away, the male gladiator thrown of balance could do nothing as his female opponent followed through with her defence changing to attack without even blinking and driving her sword tip into (and through) his unarmoured foot. Glieith gaged in a howl of pain. And Charity, instincts driving her movements a puppet on string sheLeapt to her feet, half way up smashing her elbow into to Glieth's shocked face. The man gasped already of balance could do nothing but watch before Charity finished her perfect combination with a solid kick to the midriff.

Charity bloody and battered, heaved for breath, running on fumes watched Glieith topple backwards the arena was eary with silence only broken by the steady thump of his body hitting the ground muffled but the blood stained sand. Locked to the ground by the sword spearing him to the earth, still Charity approached slowly kicking his own blade from reach. The crowd was hanging of her every move, every twitch, every heavy breath. The female gladiator reached back and ripped the sword from his foot. A spray of red mist followed it into the air and Glieith gaped hollowly. Scarlet stained its bronze tip as Charity worked the hilt in her grip slowly reproaching Glieith head, she look down on his spent strength and sighed as the whispered of the crowd began to reach her ears

Charity loomed above Glieith his broken nose running blood over his face and filling his mouth, as he shallowly fought for breath. The crowd was screaming, her sword twitched in her hand whispering to her to do it.  
**"Kill", "kill", "kill"  
**She could hear them chanting, she could do it; it wouldn't be hard, her tongue run over her bottom lip.  
"See" she hissed to Glieith his red filled eyes swivelled over to her "see how they abandoned you when you fall" she breathed, suddenly the crowds demands faded, Charity's eyes lifted in the only direction that had that kind of power. The new emperor Markus had risen from his gold embroiled throne, smugly approaching the front of his private box he was young, arrogant, selfish, everything one could despised, a revolting sneer destroyed his fine looks, as he rose a hand for all to decide Glieth's fate. The wind itself seem to halt in suspense, and ever so slowly he turned his fist in a heart stopping thumbs down, a blunt death sentence, a green light to do it, to run this man through, to carve out his heart, paints the sand red with his life blood. Charity's eyes found Glieth's, he knew what happened next. Slowly she raised the tip of her sword to find the centre of his chest. The crowd was chanting again. Glieith had closed his eyes, Charity could feel it the eyes of hundred- no thousands all watching her, how she hated them, everything was a mix. Ablaze with colours, sounds, and most of all her hatred, how could they? How could they cheer her on scream for her to murder another? And them on the turn off a dime scream for her blood when she finally lost. Charity's hands began to shake with anger, she picked her target. Gritting her teeth, golden eyes flared like fire  
_**Fuck it**_  
She with a scream of hatred she drove the blade down the crowd silencing with it as she buried the sword tip in the scarlet sand inches from her enemies face, the dumbstruck crowd watch her every move as she turned to face the emperor again his face red with fury, a rare smile tugged at her lips as she extended a hand out to him, and much to the audiences horror blatantly pulled the middle finger. A roar exploded as the crowd either screamed her name or of her head, blandly refusing direct orders from the emperor and then doing something like that she might as well take her sword and do the deed before Markus could. Charity herself could practically see a vein throbbing rapidly in his temple, he yelled something and the gates behind her banged open, she didn't have to turn to see the troop of pike men enter and come rushing towards her, quickly Charity found herself surrounding, spears an movement away from impale her. Still she held his gaze. Markus smiled ready to give the order when the chanting changed. That's when it started, so fragile and small in a whisper it would be gone but instead it grew, growing to a roar in a breath  
**"live" "live" "live"  
** Charity's eyes finally broke from her staring contest with Markus the crowd were on their feet. Fists out in front of them, thumbs up, they screamed for her, she spun slowly in a full circle, taking it all in her eyes darted across the blurred faces. Till her eyes finally fell back on Markus, his burning in pure hatred, slowly he raised a shaking fist into the air. The moment of truth, what could be her finale judgement, no matter what the crowd did you could not change his finally decision. Thumbs up she lived to be murdered another day, thumbs down she would be spared from all angles and left to bleed out on the sand, still crowd screamed their vote, up in his private box Markus cursed to himself, his subjects could not lose faith he would not let a slave be painted as the hero and himself as a low life villain. Painting his face with a fake grin turned his fist unwilling in the sign of life the crowd screamed in response, but his eyes showed a different story. Back on the arena ground Charity raised an eye brow, giving the arrogant ruler a mocking curtsy she turned the soldiers parting for her she strolled towards the gate. The announcer stammered into the next round though the excitement could not be calmed, the emperor griped savagely at the arms of his throne as he sat back down, she would die. The gladiator woman that so many favoured, her next battle would be her last. Even if he had to run her through himself.

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**and there you have it!**  
**the random shit i write when i sound be updating "trace of fairys**

**thx =D**


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